


how deep goes your depravity

by inkribbcn



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Game: Silent Hill 2, Gen, Horror, IM VERY BAD AT TAGGING, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Resident Evil 4, Pre-Resident Evil Degeneration, References to Resident Evil 4, Silent Hill 2 Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, alternating povs, but - Freeform, can you tell i dont usually do this, may be shippy in the future? unsure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24872572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkribbcn/pseuds/inkribbcn
Summary: “You okay?”James’ attention was brought back to the voice behind him, which was, unlike the lifeless monster under his feet, definitely human, definitely something he was glad to hear.James stood up again, seeing a-- young man? A young-looking man on the other side of the wooden barricade, gun held firmly in his right and cradled by his left, lowered to his hip. He had dusty blond hair, cold eyes, and was wearing a leather jacket over a gray shirt, jeans, and black combat boots. James was at a loss for words. If he were to be honest, he really wasn’t okay, because he just came face to face with a monster after all, but he just nodded awkwardly and said, “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> alright so here we go
> 
> first of all, i know that. someone has already started one of these. i was not aware of this until i had already started writing mine. please don't say stuff like 'so-and-so's is better' or 'you're copying so-and-so,' because chances are we both just decided to start our respective works for the fuck of it. in addition, i don't know if this will end up being connected to the previous leon/sh2 oneshot i posted. i might, i might not.
> 
> second of all, i'm posting this because i. crave validation. i'm honestly not sure if i'm going to finish it, but if i am, updates at the very least will be slow because i have a full-time job and also i have a significant lack of brain juice like 99% of the time.
> 
> third of all, i'm aware that my writing seems a little purple-prose-y at times. i try to tone it down. i swear i do. and also, this is unbeta'd, so if there are any mistakes or anything like that, please let me know.
> 
> fourth of all, if my characterization seems off, forgive me. i don't usually write a lot in general, but i do try to stay true to canon personalities and motives.
> 
> comments, kudos, even feedback is greatly appreciated <3

James had no idea what exactly he was looking for, just that he was looking. The memories he had of this town, although fleeting as they were at this point, didn’t exactly match up with the oppressive fog, dilapidated buildings, and crumbling roads under his feet that he was met with when he arrived. And yet, he kept walking. Something deep in his gut told him he should have just turned back a while ago, he should have just dismissed the letter because she was _gone,_ wasn’t she? She was. Right?

He had come to Silent Hill because he received a letter from Mary, his wife. 

_‘I’m alone there now,’_ the words in her handwriting read. _‘In our ‘special place’... Waiting for you.’_

He shouldn’t have come here. He shouldn’t have believed the letter in the first place. But he was mourning, and empty, and desperate. The walk through Toluca Park lasted long enough for him to recognize just exactly what it was he was doing and turn back.

He didn’t.

The roads were empty, and as far as he was concerned, aside from the girl he had met in the cemetery, Silent Hill was a ghost town. Not counting trees or any other plant life, he hadn’t seen anything else living at all, not even any bugs. Almost all the windows were boarded up, so even if James wanted to peer into any buildings to find anybody hanging around this abandoned area, he couldn’t. All the roads he’d gone down so far either led to nowhere, or looped back around to another. He continued to wander mindlessly, completely unsure of what it was he wanted to find or what would be a sign that she was here. He tried to pull life in his surroundings from the deepest reaches of his memory, tried to remember where they’d visited, think of where she might be, but he couldn’t. He frowned and sighed and moved to pull out his map as he turned a corner and-- 

The sharp scent of something metallic pierced through him. The scent of _blood,_ that’s what it was. Deep crimson blood marred the asphalt of the road in a curved streak as though something, maybe even _someone_ had been run over. He felt his heart drop into his stomach and froze in his tracks, not wanting to step in the blood at all. As he backed up, looked up and away from the blood, he saw before him something definitely humanoid but oh, so very _wrong_ as it didn’t seem to have any arms that he could see. It walked on coltish legs, movements jilted and stuttered as it faded off into the fog. James didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he let it all out, as quietly as possible. He’d had half a mind to follow it and half a mind to not. Who knew what it could do? Definitely not him. 

Against his better judgement, though, he found himself following behind the ghastly figure he couldn’t comprehend. _Why was he doing this?_ No matter how much James seemed to be asking himself that question today, he couldn't find an answer. He couldn’t even seem to find an answer in the shattered glass littered across the sidewalks and the streets or in the sickly curve of blood under his feet that looked both fresh and dried out at the same time, either. All of these warning signs, these red flags, and yet he pressed on. The horror he felt at the situation he’d gotten himself into was greatly overpowered by the determination to find Mary, to see her again, and because of it, he seemed to have surrendered to a very dangerous apathy.

 _“I don’t really care if it’s dangerous or not,”_ he had said to the girl he met at the cemetery. Perhaps he meant it when he had said it then, because even with the unsettling surroundings, he really didn’t seem to care. 

At the end of the blood trail was a dead-ended dirt road. Everything, even the crunch of soil and gravel under his feet felt unnerving. A distant, dissonant sound seeped out from the tunnel in front of him, and he quickly recognized what it was. 

He’d always hated the sound of white noise. 

Blocking up the tunnel was a crooked lattice of old, splintering wooden boards and rusted metal drum barrels, and gave James the feeling of this probably having been some sort of childish hideout, once upon a time. He peered through the large opening in between the boards and then slipped in, his large body protesting having to squeeze through this opening made clearly more for someone half his size. He quickly discovered the source of the grating white noise coming from right beside him. 

He looked down at a little plastic radio, the faces of the buttons worn away and dirt and dust clouding the edges. He picked it up, holding it close to his ear thinking that maybe he might be able to hear something if he did so, but what he hadn’t expected next was a voice, sharp and loud, and coming from right behind him.

“Get down!”

James did not recognize the owner of this voice. It certainly wasn’t the timid girl he’d met at the cemetery, and definitely not Mary. It was a man, a stranger so he initially didn’t want to listen, but the words were spoken with such urgency that he unconsciously followed the order anyway. 

He looked forward again and then dropped down, his knees this time protesting the quick movement with uncomfortable popping. When his eyes looked up, he saw the inhuman thing from earlier, but so much more up close. It stalked toward him, but just barely, taking one step before James heard two shots fire off, not even echoing, the sounds swallowed up by the fog. He heard the thing in front of him cry and then collapse to the ground with an uncanny crunching noise, and then he looked at it for real. A dirtied body, brown and misshapen, that looked like someone tied up in a straitjacket, or stuffed into a burlap sack, except again-- it had no face, no real hands, absolutely nothing for James to be able to tell whether or not it was really human.

“You okay?”

James’ attention was brought back to the voice behind him, which was, unlike the lifeless monster under his feet, definitely human, definitely something he was glad to hear. 

James stood up again, seeing a-- young man? A young-looking man on the other side of the wooden barricade, gun held firmly in his right and cradled by his left, lowered to his hip. He had dusty blond hair, cold eyes, and was wearing a leather jacket over a gray shirt, jeans, and black combat boots. James was at a loss for words. If he were to be honest, he really wasn’t okay, because he just came face to face with a _monster_ after all, but he just nodded awkwardly and said, “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

James watched as the young-looking man relaxed his posture, though not by much, his shoulders were still squared and his hands tight around his handgun. He hoped that he didn’t see him as a threat. He was shorter compared to James himself, but something about those cold, guarded eyes made James feel like he could snap a neck in 3 seconds flat. 

The young-looking man had the faintest hint of a smile as he watched James climb back out through the barricade-- of course, not without nearly tripping over an old plank he’d knocked over-- and James dipped his head slightly in gratitude.

“Thank you again, really… I have no idea what that… _monster_ was.” He said, turning back slightly to look into the tunnel once more.

“No sweat.” The young-looking man gave him a once-over before finally putting his arms at ease, tucking the handgun away into a holster strapped to his thigh. 

James felt his own posture relax at that. Good, he wasn’t about to be shot. “I’m James. I’m, uh… looking for someone.” 

“... My name's Leon.” The young-looking man replied. “Who are you looking for?” 

James looked down at himself to dig the photo of Mary out from one of his pockets and realized he was still holding the radio, from which he could hear nothing but fading, garbled static. “... Oops.” He muttered sheepishly. He tucked the dingy little radio into another pocket, reminding himself to look it over later, and then pulled out the photo of Mary and held it out to the young-looking man-- to Leon. “Mary… she’s my wife.” He answered, watching Leon’s eyes scan over the photo. Leon leaned back, seemingly thoughtfully, but whatever strange ember of hope had lit itself inside of James was snuffed out when he shook his head.

“No, sorry. Don’t think I’ve seen her.” Leon said. 

James looked over Leon once again. “... Why are you here? Are you looking for someone, too?” 

Leon averted his gaze. Not much of a talker, James had figured, but then Leon simply shrugged his shoulders. “I heard something about this place… and came to take a look. That’s all, really.” 

Well, that sounded awfully suspicious, he couldn’t deny that. James hummed. “... Alright.” His eyes wandered to the handgun in its holster on Leon’s thigh.

“... You don’t have a weapon, do you?” Leon asked, apparently having seen his gaze. James shook his head. 

“No, I’ve never even used a gun before…” He replied. 

Leon once more stepped back a bit, looking to be deep in thought, head tilting lazily from side to side. James was about to ask him what was wrong when Leon looked back at him.

“If you’re looking for someone…” He began, crossing his arms. “I think I might be able to find what I’m looking for, too.”

 _What is he even looking for?_ “... Are you saying we should stick together?” James said instead. 

“Well, only until one of us finds what they’re looking for,” Leon said, “then you’re on your own.”

“... Fair enough.” 

“Besides, I’ve got a weapon.” James’ eyes once again wandered to the holster on his thigh. “And if these monsters are around, I can deal with them.” 

James wasn’t sure how he felt about this by-all-means smaller man being the one to protect him, but he felt a little too intimidated to say anything about it. So he nodded and offered a smile. At least he would be getting some help. Two heads was better than one, after all. “Thank you, Leon.” 

Leon seemed to so briefly be surprised at that before quickly schooling his face into one of nonchalance. “... It’s no problem.” He said, before turning around. 

James watched him begin to walk off into the fog and quickly caught up to him. 

*

They did a little bit more wandering around after that. A brief peek into an abandoned bar and having encountered an apparent hole that was no longer, they found themselves directed to the end of an alleyway by a dirtied copy of a map of Silent Hill.

When James saw the corpse, slumped over with its back against the fence, he expected to see Leon react, too. But when he darted his eyes to the side, all he saw was Leon taking a deep breath before he approached it. 

The putrid smell of decay permeated the air, it felt so thick it was just about unbearably palpable. It felt almost like it could pierce through his jacket and into his skin. James stepped back, covering his nose and mouth to buffer the scent, but to little to no avail. He watched in both awe and disgust as Leon got down onto one knee before the body. 

Leon reached a hand out and lifted the body’s head up by its chin, searching its face. No distinguishable features could be made out under all the blood. He pulled his hand back and wiped whatever blood he’d gotten on himself onto his jeans, and then moved to stand again, but not before spotting something utterly clean, and thus, somewhat standing out amongst the dreary surroundings. Leon slowly reached out, slowly unfurling the fingers curled tightly-- it seemed rigor mortis had already set in-- around the silver key. At first the fingers were unyielding, but with an uncanny cracking, Leon freed the key from its grasp. Once he recovered it, he let the body’s hand drop back between its legs. 

“Wh-- what… how can you just… _do_ that?” James asked, equal parts horrified and fascinated at the absolute _audacity_ of this man to just touch a corpse and make it seem nothing more than just a fly on the wall. “Are you… _used_ to this sort of thing, Leon?” 

Leon examined the silver key in his hands, looking at the tag. “I guess you could say that... It’s a long story,” he simply replied, eyes narrowing as he brought it closer for inspection. 

James slowly inched forward to look at it as well-- a shiny silver key, stained only by the blood from the hand that clutched it minutes ago. The tag on it read “Woodside Apartments,” and quickly James thought back to his map of the town. 

“I know where that is,” He said, watching as Leon met his eyes. “We can go there, if we have that key.” 

Leon looked back at the corpse and shrugged nonchalantly, tossing the key up in the air and catching it in his hand. “Well, it’s not like he’s got any use for it anymore. Lead the way.” 

James nodded and pulled his map out, quickly finding where they were and marking it down as a place he’d explored already. As James began to walk, pointing them in the general direction of the Woodside Apartments, Leon began fidgeting with the key, once again tossing it up and catching it, tossing it up and catching it, tossing it up and catching it, tossing it up and--

“Oh, is this it?” Leon asked, and James heard the sound of the key falling into Leon’s gloved hand one last time--

and catching it. 

James nodded, walking parallel to the chain-link fence barring them from entering the premises. “Yes, I think so.” He replied. He took a few more steps forward before coming to where the fence became gates. 

Connecting the gate doors was an old, rusting padlock that was probably the colour of gold once upon a time, but much like everything else in this town, was tarnished. James looked at Leon and gestured awkwardly.

“... Can I, or, will you…”

Leon had a placid expression on his face as he dangled the key by its tag, and James reached out for it to take, only for Leon to swipe it back away with a sly smile on his face.

James was about to protest, ask why he was acting like such a jerk, but then he saw Leon’s face fall into its prior seriousness and his right hand reach into the holster on his thigh. He supposed that even if they could see through this chain link fence, the fog could be hiding something more. 

“Give me your hand.” Leon said, looking back at James. James made a questioning noise, but followed the order anyway, watching as Leon dropped the key into his waiting palm, without any fake-outs this time. Leon then stood off to the side, both hands now on his gun, and, if James were to be honest, seeing Leon so on guard wasn’t exactly making him feel any safer. 

When James unlocked the gates, the padlock fell to the ground. He reached down to pick it up, and as he did, watched Leon slowly open the gate, gun up and ready. The chain link gate creaked open on old, rusted hinges, and normally an apartment’s front doors didn’t look so ominous, but bathed in the thick fog with a worn, fragile-looking exterior, James wondered if maybe he should turn back, after all. 

Leon seemed to quickly assess any threats-- or rather, lack thereof, before standing back and gesturing with a hand. “Well. After you.”

James scoffed, rolling his eyes. “... Gee. Thanks.” 

“I’m sorry for taking you into consideration and deciding to watch our backs for any monsters.” Leon muttered, and James felt embarrassed.

“... Sorry.”

Leon gave him a boyish, disarming smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just giving you shit.”

And he ushered James past the gates with that smile still on his face. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if i made leon too angsty in this chapter orz i end up doing that a lot  
> but i'm proud of specifically the beginning. i like to think i'm funny
> 
> as always comments, kudos, etc etc are always appreciated <3

“... Is this a joke? You’re joking, right?” 

Leon stared at the file that sat in front of him: a manila folder with the name “Silent Hill” on the tab. It laid open, the only thing inside being a single piece of paper. It was a short report that talked about a rumored bioterrorist cult that had hooked its claws into a small, idyllic town in Maine. He looked at Hunnigan, but her ever-schooled expression didn’t change or lend to any answers. 

It had been a few months now since the whole shitshow that was Spain and Los Iluminados, and once Leon returned, passed every medical exam known to man, and began drafting up his report, he had promptly gone right home when he was finally allowed to and screamed into a pillow for a good, long hour. He felt like he deserved to, after such a steady 24 hours straight of absolutely horrifying and asinine bullshit. 

And now, sitting in front of him, was another goddamn cult. 

He swore he was going to break something if he saw another jackass in a weird robe and creepy-ass face makeup.

“Hunnigan, April Fool’s isn’t for another couple of months.”

She sighed and folded her hands before her. 

“...  _ Hunnigan _ .”

“I’m sorry, Leon, but unfortunately it’s not a joke.”

“... I knew you were going to say that.” Leon replied with a groan. “Is this all the intel we have? This is, isn’t it. Barely a page long… How did this even come to the attention of the US government, anyways?”

“Beats me, considering the fact that Silent Hill doesn’t seem to be recorded on any new maps,” Hunnigan replied, with yet another sigh. “But since it does concern bioterrorism, it did catch our eye. A bioterrorist cult in a small town probably means they want to keep their existence low-key, like Los Iluminados had. It’d be best if you put a stop to it before they have the chance to grow.”

Leon narrowed his eyes and then hummed, the pads of his fingertips pulling the report closer to him. Once again, and then once more, he scanned the paper. Trying to absorb what little he could of this report didn’t help him feel any less angry.

Hours later, Leon found himself on a plane set for Silent Hill-- or, at least, a city nearby he could drive into it from. Clearly whoever did this report didn’t do enough research-- the damn thing was only a good 4 paragraphs long, the only accompanying photograph being one of a sign with the town’s name on it. He let out an exasperated sigh and leaned his head back. 

It was a bioterrorist cult he would be dealing with, both he and the US government knew that much. So Leon was expecting the same kind of situation as Los Iluminados, which was to say, mostly just a bunch of weirdos all in heavy robes, wielding scythes and maces and all. As he stared out the window, Leon took a deep breath. He’d be fine. If he really needed to, he’d just do the same thing he had after Spain once he was done with this operation: go home, lock himself into his bedroom, and just scream into a pillow for a good hour. 

It had been months ago, nearly half a year ago, but the more he thought back to Spain, the more scars he’d gotten from the Plaga Removal machine began to burn with a phantom pain, as if reacting to the memories. It almost eerily echoed the plaga writhing deep in his body, painfully answering to whatever made it come alive under his skin. 

Leon frowned, and smoothed out where his shirt fell over his stomach, hoping that would quell the stinging even a little bit.

*

Leon slowly pushed open the chain-link gates, eyes narrowing slightly at the creaking of the hinges. He looked back at James, who looked back at him, his lips in a tight line and brows furrowed. He must have been nervous. Leon leaned back slightly to see if anything was stalking them from the fog. He could hear the faint groaning of zombies off in the distance. None of them followed behind them, their weak, failing eyesight probably made worse by the fog. They seemed like T-virus infected, which he was a little glad for. After all, T-virus zombies weren’t exactly very fast. But for some reason, something felt off about them. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was that was off, which worried him. A lot.

He looked back at James and gestured with a tilt of his head and a wave of his hand. “After you,” he said, watching James’ expression fall slightly.

“... Gee, thanks.”

“... I’m sorry for taking you into consideration and deciding to watch our backs for any monsters.” He meant for it to come off somewhat playfully, but James genuinely looked embarrassed at that.

“Sorry.”

Leon shook his head, smiled, and ushered James past the gates. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just giving you shit.”

He watched James visibly relax at that, shoulders falling slack. Once both himself and James were on the other side of the gates, Leon quickly closed the gates behind them, looking warily once more out into the fog. Again, no shambling corpses or otherwise seemed to have found them through the sheer thickness of it. He looked down and saw an outstretched hand at his feet, the rest of the body engulfed in the fog.

He kicked it away and looked forward once again. James began to walk forward, so calmly, and Leon forced himself to believe that things would be fine. Sheer determination and willpower had gotten him through Spain, after all.

Looking at James’ back, he slowly felt as though he couldn’t summon the same strength he’d had that day.

When they entered the apartments, they could hear nothing more than the sound of their own footsteps echoing through the empty lobby. Leon didn’t know whether or not that made him feel any better. No lights worked, and aside from the flashlight Leon had, the only light was whatever dulled sunlight-- if you could call it that-- could come through the windows. Leon took a deep breath, guard still up, sharp and growing sharper still. Leon reached down with his left hand and flipped his flashlight on. He looked at James. “... On second thought, I’ll be point. Watch our backs.” 

James nodded obediently, his grip tightening around the wooden plank that he had earlier. Leon nodded back, and they began to ascend the stairs to the first floor of the apartment. 

“So… what brought you here?” James asked idly. He understood if he wanted to fill the void of silence. 

“You already asked me that,” Leon said. “It’s classified.” 

James hummed. He definitely wasn’t satisfied with that answer. He could tell. Despite Leon’s position as a government agent that worked closely with the President himself, there were still some things with a clearance level higher than he had, and his childish curiosity begged to be privy to said things, feeling some deep dissatisfaction if he couldn’t be. 

He figured he might as well say something that James could trust, at least.

“... I actually work for the US government,” He began. “I’m here on an investigation.”

“Into what?”

Was James knowledgeable at all about bioterrorism, or was this man relatively sheltered to the current events in the world? 

“... Please don’t say ‘it’s classified.’” James quickly added, displeased. 

“... It’s not, not really. I’m just trying to find the words.” And that wasn’t exactly a lie. 

Cracked, peeling paint left the walls with patches of off-white drywall. Underneath their every footfall was splinters of wood from fallen-apart doors, chips from the trim on the walls, and the wooden floorboards that peeked out from under ripped-open parts of the carpet. The hallway was wide enough for Leon to probably be able to spread his arms wide open, but his flashlight somehow did little against the encroaching darkness, and it made him feel awfully claustrophobic. He tried not to think about the walls closing in on them both. 

Leon took a deep breath and hummed, thinking back to James. He knew of one way to breach the subject-- after all, he was sure the kidnapping of President Graham’s daughter was common knowledge, an event nearly all US citizens were dying to stay updated on. He wasn’t sure which story James had heard though, if he’d heard at all. The public version was that after a failed bargain with ransom (that left many questioning the President’s capability to run the country), a rescue team employed by President Graham was dispatched and had successfully extracted her from where she was being held hostage and returned back stateside. The public had no idea that it was just him, one man with minimal backup, since he was meant to be a solo ghost agent, and because they all thought it was going to be easy. So he decided to go with something else.

“James.” 

“Yes?”

“Have you heard of the Raccoon City incident?” 

Behind him, James made a questioning noise, and Leon was unsure if he was combing through his memory for any mention of the incident. James looked older than him, surely he’d had to have heard of it, right? James must be older than him. 

“... I think so.” James answered finally, and Leon heard him come to a stop. “But what does Raccoon City have to do with what you’re here for?” 

Was his being a survivor of Raccoon City public knowledge at all?

“Do you know why Raccoon City was bombed?” 

“... No. Are you allowed to tell me?” 

“Well, yes. It’s been mentioned on the news, but-- Raccoon City was bombed because of a bioterrorism incident that took place there.”

“... Bioterrorism?” The word seemed to sound unfamiliar and foreign on James’ tongue. “Oh, wait, I remember. Right, there was a viral outbreak there, wasn’t there?” He shuddered. “Scary stuff.”

Leon nodded. “There’s been rumors of a suspicious group dealing with the same stuff here. I’m here to gather evidence, and then report back.”

“I see. You’re brave, coming here on your own.” James said. That confused Leon-- hadn’t James also arrived alone? “I mean, usually there’s a task force for things like this, isn’t there?”

“If you were the terrorists, do you think just one average-looking guy would be the enemy, or a group of people in a task-force van?” 

James hummed.

They tried doors as they went down the hall. Some were locked, most were just downright broken, until James pushed open a door to a small room with a garbage chute. 

“That’s a pleasant smell...” Leon muttered, looking at the bulging bag that was lodged, stuck well in the opening. This place seemed to have been abandoned a long time ago-- he suspected it might be the same for this bag of trash, which didn’t make the smell any more appealing. James grimaced and Leon watched as he swung the plank he’d been holding onto around and in front of him, and prodded at the trash. No matter how hard he seemed to stab at it, it wouldn’t budge, which was impressive, given the size of said plank.

“Let’s just deal with it later. This smell is making me sick.” Leon waved his hand dismissively before turning back around. 

They tried another door, and when it creaked open, they were met with the first light they’d seen in a while. Bright, fluorescent white light spilled onto the floor before them, lighting up an empty, dirty kitchen area and a fridge with grime on its handles. Leon stepped inside first, gun still up and at the ready. He could hear James follow in behind him. When he turned the corner, he saw a stand mannequin, dressed in a pink and white outfit with a flashlight resting on its left breast. Behind the stand mannequin were some more mannequins, but they looked more like someone was playing around than anything. One of them was just a pair of legs connected to another pair of legs. He frowned-- fucking creepy-- and gestured for James to take the flashlight on the mannequin. James reached out… rather gingerly for the flashlight on the mannequin. 

“Something wrong?” He asked gently. 

James shook his head as he clipped the flashlight to a pocket on his front. “Well, not really… I mean, it’s just a mannequin, but… these… clothes.” 

That was all James was able to get out when a discordant noise broke out in front of them. What he had previously thought were some demented man’s experimentation with full body mannequins were live moving _fucking_ _monsters_. The top half of legs thrashed and kicked about as the bottom half slowly stalked towards them both. Now Leon could see that the pairs of legs didn’t appear to end in feet, but were rather tapered to a dull point, which made Leon wonder how exactly they could walk. He heard the sharpness of white noise and saw as James padded at the radio in his pocket.

Did it react to the monsters?

Either way, they were both startled, and without thinking about it, Leon found himself quickly kicking the thing away. It went down with a hollow sound, much like a plastic mannequin, resonating dully throughout the room, but both pairs of legs now continued to thrash about.

Usually he wouldn’t be so unnerved, but this was unlike any of T or G-virus infected zombies he’d seen outside. Not even any of the Ganados in Spain had mutated into anything like this. He’d seen so much in Raccoon City and the operations he’d been on that followed it, but the way this thing moved...

The static from James’ radio seemed to get louder, and the hollow knocking noise of the mannequin legs against the floor kept going and going for what felt like minutes until Leon finally pulled his gun, shooting the damned thing square in the--  _ whatever _ it was he could call that middle. 

The room sank back into silence and Leon let his hands fall limp, gun resting against his thigh. 

“Leon?” 

He looked up at the call of his name and looked to James. He cleared his throat and wondered why exactly he was so on edge.

“Sorry.” Leon muttered. “That… sure was invigorating.” 

He didn’t even know how he could explain himself. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, no. It’s... Everything is fine. Caught me off guard is all.”

“... Alright.”

Leon looked back at the stand mannequin. “What were you saying? About this…”

James looked at the mannequin again. He reached his hand out and lightly touched the pale pink cardigan that, unlike just about everything else in this derelict building, was near immaculately clean. The off-white of the one-piece under the cardigan was, aside from the fluorescent flashlights they both now carried, probably the brightest thing he’d seen here.

“... These look like Mary’s clothes.” James’ voice was small, and Leon got a good look at the clothes once again before he realized that, yes, he could recognize them from the photograph James had shown him.

Leon took in a breath and steeled himself again. “... Let’s just hope it doesn’t mean what I think it means.”

James’ eyes narrowed for a bit and his mouth fell open slightly-- “But she--” then he shook his head. He was going to say something, but seemingly decided against it. Leon raised an eyebrow at it, and James didn’t seem to notice.

Sure, Leon knew he sounded suspicious, but now James did as well.

Leon stepped around James, his boot landing on a shard of glass. It cracked under his weight. As he left the room, the emptiness seemed to swallow the sound of it. Stepping through the threshold of the doorframe, he noticed that the sound of his footsteps, too, seemed to be consumed by the dark.

Leon immediately brought his gun up, pivoting to see if anything was waiting in the dark for him, and something indeed was. 

Glassy, clouded white eyes met his own, and a rotting hand reached out for him. T-virus, this had to be, because the skin that was falling apart was a sickly-looking greyish-green. When he stepped back and really looked at the infected, though, his eyes saw one of his former classmates from the police academy, face still as young as he could remember it being.

Leon put two shots into its head and watched the infected fall, the body hitting the ground with another dull thud. Its eyes and mouth were still open. Blood pooled by his boots and he took a deep breath.

He could feel his heart racing. Something more than a cult was here. Some force, some weird fucking curse, or something. Otherwise, this thing wouldn’t look like someone he knew when he was twenty and idealistic-- and still not look a day over nineteen. That, or maybe he was just losing his mind. He hadn’t felt like this ever, really, not even in South America, or Spain. He felt in over his head and took a deep breath.

Leon brought his heel down onto the dead body’s head, the skull easily crushing underneath his boot. It cracked with a sick sound and Leon almost felt like he wanted to vomit.

What the hell was this place?

“Leon? Everything okay?” He heard James say, and Leon turned to his side to see James poking his head out through the door frame. 

“... Yeah. Just… another one of these things.” Leon muttered, kicking at the broken-in skull of the body. “Let’s go down this way.”

Leon walked down the hall past the infected, leaving behind a trail of bloody footprints.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a few weeks orz  
> i don't have much to say about this one except that if maybe leon seems a bit too much like.. a little bitch i apologize again   
> since it's 4 era leon i thought he might have a bit of attitude :V
> 
> oh also i am... very excited for next chapter. :3 you will see when i... eventually get it done lmao
> 
> as always comments and kudos are appreciated! i'm always looking forward to improving my writing so don't hesitate to point something out to me <3

Now with an added light source, James had backtracked to an area they’d passed by before. Leon had overlooked the jagged bars that sliced this hallway in two, muttering something about ‘shitty design,’ but James had spotted something on the ground.

With the light now over it, James could see it was a key. He looked back at Leon, who was scouring their surroundings for monsters that weren’t there.

“... What is it?” Leon asked, walking back over to where James was now on his knees. 

“There’s a key there, on the other side of the bars.” He said, pointing.

It seemed to twinkle in the bright light of the flashlight, and Leon hummed, getting down on a knee beside him. “... Do you want to get it, or should I?” He asked, and James pulled his light from where he had it clipped to his jacket, holding it in one hand.

“I’ll try. If I stretch my arm out, I just might be able to reach it. But if I can’t, you can try.”

“Alright, sure, go for it. I’ll watch our six, just in case.” Leon nodded and turned back around. He seemed weirdly on edge since that room with the mannequin, the one wearing Mary’s clothes. He wondered if maybe Leon just didn’t like mannequins, which was fair.

James bent down, his flashlight flooding past the metal bars. So close to the ground now, it smelled like rust, iron, and dirt. He stuck his hand in between the bars and, once making sure he wouldn’t get stuck in here forever, reached out further. He strained, even turned his head away to force a little bit of his shoulder through, but before he knew it, there was a gust of air by his hand, the sound of the metal key clattering against the wall and then--

A little girl’s grunt, as his hand was stomped on.

James immediately recoiled, letting out a wince of pain. As he reeled back, he could hear Leon standing, holding his flashlight, and then presumably that same little girl laughing. 

“Hey, wait!” Leon cried out, grabbing at one of the bars. 

James groaned and stood proper, fixing himself. He’d only seen a glimpse of what she’d look like, a brief flash of pale blonde hair and the small movement of a blue dress. “Damn it…” James allowed himself to curse, moving next to Leon to find where the key had ended up.

The key was considerably much farther away after its ricochet off the walls, and James frowned. 

“I can’t reach that now, no matter how far I stretch.” He griped, and he saw out of the corner of his eye as Leon leaned back from the bars. James looked at him, and James could see Leon’s face twisted in-- some sort of sadness, maybe? Confusion? He couldn’t tell. “... Leon?”

Leon’s eyes snapped back to James upon the call of his name, and James watched those cold eyes flit back and forth between him and the darkness beyond the bars that their lights couldn’t touch. “... That was a little girl.” He said slowly, and James wasn’t sure he imagined the small tremor he could hear in the words. “What is she doing here, all by herself…?” 

“... I think she’s run off too far for us to find her,” James replied, “and with these bars in the way too…”

Leon stepped forward and grabbed the bars again, as though if maybe he squinted hard enough he might be able to see in the darkness. James decided to give him a moment. Maybe Leon had a little sister that girl’s age, or maybe even a little girl of his own-- the thought of which baffled James a bit, considering just how young Leon looked. “... Sorry.” Leon’s sudden words cut through the silence, and James found himself startled back into attention. “Let’s just keep going.”

James stared a little longer beyond the bars too, but soon turned around.

James watched as Leon tried some doors. He wasn’t sure which ones they’d tried and which ones they hadn’t at this point, because pretty much most, if not all, were locked, or broken. He was about to keep moving when Leon stopped, cursed under his breath, calling himself an idiot, and then kicked one of the doors open, digging his heel into a spot by the doorknob.

“... Can’t believe I didn’t think of doing this earlier.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair in exasperation.

James smiled half-heartedly. “Well... there’s a lot happening here. I don’t blame you.” 

Leon hummed. 

Even though it was a new apartment, the insides weren’t new at all. The same dirty brown wallpaper, peeling floorboards, and significant lack of any furniture like all the others. Leon was still muttering to himself as he kicked away some debris, the small chip of wood sliding underneath a set of drawers. James approached the drawers, eyes finding an open book on the top. 

_Three needles stand of three different heights._

_The fat, the tall, and the thin._

_From slow to fast they move to the right._

_Scott rests not on three, but on fifteen._

“... Leon, come and look at this.”

“If it’s some weird, cryptic message, then I don’t care,” Leon griped as he walked over.

“Then why are you--”

“Sarcasm. What is this?”

“I’m… not sure, actually.”

Leon re-read the words, following the sentences with a finger. Had Leon always had black-painted nails? James never noticed it before, but now he did.

“... Your nails.” James murmured.

Leon made another questioning noise and looked at the back of his hand to look at his nails. “Oh. Yeah? So what.”

“Do you like them like that?” He asked, gaze flitting between Leon’s eyes and his fingernails. Some of the polish was starting to flake off at the tips, presumably from grabbing at things and pulling stuff apart.

“... Is it a problem if I do?”

“No, no! Not at all. It’s just… I mean, I’ve never seen a man with his nails painted before.”

“Well, now you have.” Leon shot another one of his boyish grins at James. He was starting to hate it, honestly. 

It was strangely captivating to him-- because after all, how could a man be so chipper in such a place as this? In fact, Leon’s emotions seemed to be all over the place. He felt like such a wildcard. In the past few hours, he’d seen Leon quickly switch between cool, playful, anxious, irritated, and upset.

James supposed he’d never understand him.

Another room. Why Leon _insisted_ on searching every single one they could feasibly enter was beyond him. He understood that maybe they might miss something important, but most of them so far hadn’t been much to write home about.

Until this one, that was.

The distant hum of white noise greeted them when they walked in, and so did the stench of blood. 

Entering the living room, they found someone slouched over on a loveseat 3 feet away from the TV. Something felt wrong, so incredibly wrong. Though James couldn’t say he was surprised to find a body there, it was still startling, because it was a _body,_ after all. The entire corpse seemed to be drenched in blood, whether their own or someone else’s, he couldn’t tell. Even with the light, the sheer amount of blood made it hard for James to make out any facial features.

“Oh my god…” James breathed out. “Who could have done this…?” He almost wanted to reach out and touch it, but the metallic smell was too much for him. 

Now that he looked over, the blood that had splattered onto the TV was still moving slowly down the small screen. Which meant that this happened recently, and that scared him.

“James,” He heard Leon call his name, and looked over to see where Leon had wandered off to. He walked past the body in the seat and into a small room, where Leon was examining something odd on the walls.

Leon stepped back as James approached, revealing to him three notches made in the wall, next to names. 

“Henry, Mildred, and Scott.” James murmured. 

“... The notches look like the hands of a clock.” 

James nodded. “Yeah… They do.” He looked back up and turned to where Leon was facing, seeing a tall grandfather clock, stopped at 4:30 and 15 seconds. “Oh, would you look at that.” He then said, with a bit of a chuckle.

Leon stepped forward and reached out for the clock face, fingertips against the glass window. “... Scott rests not on three, but on fifteen.” He whispered, probably mostly to himself, and his hand moved around, trying to find the latch to open the window. James looked at the ground, seeing small scratches in the wooden floor, as though this clock had been moved to or from where it was now standing before.

“It’s locked. The face plate for the clock.” Leon said suddenly. “I can’t touch the needles of the clock like this.”

“Is that what we should do? Move the needles, I mean?”

“That’s what the riddle from earlier seems to be suggesting.”

“Then I suppose we should find a key, right?” James moved around Leon to see where he was prodding at the latch for the face plate earlier. It was locked, like he said. 

_Where should we start looking?_

“Oh, yeah, speaking of keys.” Leon held up a small silver key. “It’s not to the clock, but it’s to apartment 202. Probably worth a shot, right?”

*

The room they were in now was, like most others, dark, but this one had insect specimens and flickering red light bulbs. The apartment as a whole seemed to have bugs all about, bugs with wings that James couldn’t really identify. They flitted around a set of 3 cages, all empty. This room in particular looked to be a bedroom, but, again, like most others, seemed to have been abandoned long ago. The sheets on the small bed were stained with something unidentifiable, and the bed itself was unmade, and the entire room and everything in it smelled musty. James wanted to get out of here as fast as possible. 

He spotted a hole in the wall-- a near-perfect circle of one that was highlighted by the red lights above. Both he and Leon met eyes before Leon approached it first. It was small, wide enough for only one person to reach in. 

“10 bucks for you to stick your hand in there.” Leon said, gesturing with his chin towards it and a mischievous smile on his face that James-- _totally_ did not like.

“Oh, come on, don’t give me that. I already had to tried with that key from earlier, and I got my hand stepped on. Why don’t you do this one?” James shot back. This guy was _really_ testing him.

“What, are you scared of a little bug bite? Fine.”

“... Jeez. What are you good for, if all you do is make fun of me?” 

“I’m not making fun of you. I was about to volunteer, anyways. Calm down.” 

If Leon was trying playful banter to ease any anxiety, it wasn’t working, because now his attitude was just starting to get on his nerves. 

James watched as Leon stuck his hand into what he called the “gloryhole of horror” without so much as a twitch of his brow. He batted away some bugs and waited for Leon to retrieve whatever it was that was in there. Leon made a questioning noise and yanked his hand away, before peering into the darkness and then trying again.

“What the fuck…” James could hear Leon hiss to himself as he groped around inside of the wall. Some bugs rushed out and past Leon’s head, the trill of their flitting wings almost feeling too loud in this too small, too stuffy room. Leon leaned back with a gasp as they left the small crevice, one barely missing the side of his face. “Jesus f--” Leon cut himself off with a groan. “I’d actually rather be dealing with bug-infested sewers than this.”

“... You think that… bug-infested sewers are better than a hole in the wall?”

“Well, for starters, I can at least see while I’m in there. I can move my whole body and not just grope around in the dark, like a weirdo. I mean, look at this, I can’t exactly look and stick my hand in here at the same time… oh, I think I got something.” Leon muttered. 

James raised his eyebrows as Leon pulled himself back, his arm coming out of the hole and revealing dead bugs on his jacket sleeve. James watched as Leon grimaced and flicked them off with lithe fingers. Leon still had his fist curled around whatever it was he found in there. He bent down to probably see if there was anything else he might have left, or not grabbed, even if it was dark. He made a noise when he must have decided that there was nothing else in the hole for him to take, and stood again. He wavered in his place before looking down.

Leon opened his previously closed fist and resting in his palm was a small key. James leaned in to get a closer look and Leon looked at him.

“It’s for the clock, it has to be.” James said. “We can go and fiddle with that thing now.”

“Lovely,” Leon muttered under his breath. 

James forced a smile. “I mean, we’re getting somewhere.” He said, and Leon met his eyes. 

“... _You’re_ getting somewhere.” 

James shrugged, gaze falling. “Well, I mean, you never know… uh… maybe…”

“... Maybe Mary might be in possession of the cult?” 

He knew he was the one who proposed the hypothetical, but James looked up again and thought over Leon’s words. Bioterrorism, from what he could remember, meant people making viruses that brought the dead back to life-- zombies. Something that he’d only really thought were in cheesy shock movies. But Leon could very well be right, he was a government agent assigned to stuff like this, wasn’t he?

_Except she died three years ago. Why would and how could she be here now?_

He was about to say this, but with the way Leon was looking at him now, he realized that maybe the words had slipped out of his mouth anyways. Even in the red light that bounced off of his skin, he looked pale. 

“... Your wife has been dead for three years? So then why…”

If this topic weren’t so serious, maybe James might have remarked that the way Leon tilted his head in question reminded him of a puppy.

James looked down at his hands and took a deep breath. “Well… I got a letter.” He began. “A letter from Mary. Telling me that she was here, in Silent Hill. And I… I’ve missed her so much. I mean, you’d drop everything for someone you love that you haven’t seen in a while, wouldn’t you?”

James seemed to have been correct, because Leon suddenly looked incredibly wistful. He wondered who it was Leon might have lost. Maybe a significant other, like a girlfriend, or even a family member. James thought briefly back to the little girl they’d seen earlier. 

He doubted Leon would be any forthcoming though, he didn’t really say a whole lot about himself aside from what he was here to do. 

“... Yeah.” Leon murmured after a small moment. “I understand.”

“I know-- I know it’s probably weird, but…” 

Leon shot a gaze at him, and James felt like those eyes were piercing right through him. “I’m used to the dead coming back to life.” Leon said with a slight shake of his head. “It’s not weird at all.”

Leon pushed past him and James watched as he left the room. “Come on, let’s go fuck around with that clock, see what we can do with it.”

Of course, James wouldn’t ask who it was that Leon had lost. That was rude, and, again, he sincerely doubted Leon would say anything. But still, he couldn’t help but wonder who it might have been. Maybe he was just desperate to relate, to connect with this man.

James took a deep breath and then, as he had been doing, followed after Leon.


End file.
